Forbidden Harmony
by kateofallpeople
Summary: A collection of angsty and/or fluffy songfics/one shots. Various plots. I get too many Harmony ideas, and too many people requesting more. Song titles are posted at the top/title of each chapter. Continuous. Rating may change to M for future chapters.
1. I Remember

**AN: Yep. Decided to actually start this, mostly because I've been getting such good inspiration from different songs about Harmony mini-fics, that I'm just turning it into a collection of songfics. Well, sort of. It will be your job to pull the song up on youtube, stick it on repeat, and read each of these shots. Please, listen while/after you read. Or before and after. It REALLY brings things out, and is kind of the point here. Okay. It'll be pretty much continuous, I don't see myself ending this any time soon. So without further ado, here is the first installment of Forbidden Harmony! Please enjoy and review! **

* * *

><p><span>Damien Rice - I Remember <span>

_I remember it well_  
><em> The first time that I saw<em>  
><em> Your head around the door<em>  
><em> 'Cause mine stopped working<em>

Hermione had been upstairs brushing her teeth before bed. A knock. Dinner had been quiet, solo, and delicious. She'd cooked for herself again, which she was quickly finding was difficult to do without giving herself a week's worth of leftovers. It was helpful for bringing lunch to work, yes, but it wasn't doing anything for the cleanliness of her refrigerator. She'd made Italian food, after having watched a documentary on winemaking in the north of Italy, and had opened a bottle of wine with her meal. It was perfectly easy. It was calm. It was quiet. And it was absolutely disgusting. She'd been dining on her own for six months now, and she hated it just as much as she had the first night. What had happened to dinners as a group? Or Weasley family dinners at the Burrow? Those were good nights. There were plenty of people, drinks, tons of food and laughter and togetherness. She supposed things would be different if everything hadn't happened as it had. She could be sitting with them... tonight, actually. All of them. Harry and Ginny would be making eyes at each other, making Hermione feel that little clench in her heart as she turned towards the usually empty seat where her own lover should have been. Ron almost never showed up to family dinners anymore, even when they'd been together.

She waited until she had finished brushing her teeth to answer the knock at the door. If it was that important, if it really mattered - then whoever it was would wait the three minutes for her to rinse her mouth, pat her mouth dry, and leave her bathroom. Before she could even get all the way down, however, she stopped dead in her tracks. The visitor was no longer on her front step, but in her foyer. Her door was open, the rain was pouring down outside. And the tranquility of her night, she now knew, had just gotten tossed - no, thrown full force - out her window.

_I remember it well_  
><em> There was wet in your hair<em>  
><em> I was stood in the stairs<em>  
><em> And time stopped moving<br>_

"Harry?"

She slowly descended the last of the stairs, flicking her wand to close her door and finding her chest constricting more and more as she came into closer proximity to him. This was the nearest she'd been to him since the fallout. Less than six feet. Even at dinners, they only sat in the same room when they ate, when they had to. Besides that, there was bitter awkwardness and an unspoken, secret desire to both snog senseless and beat the living daylights out of each other. In fact, it had been nearly nine months since she'd been so close to him. Since she'd been so close to anyone.

He said nothing, didn't even move. He only drew in a shaky breath, stared straight at her, and bit his lip. Hermione felt as if she might faint. It had been nearly seven months since she'd seen him in any context, and yet he stood here, in her sitting room. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she could not, for once, hear the tick and tock of her hall clock. Her home had been so empty and quiet, that she'd never gone a moment without it until now. It was as if time had stopped moving completely. His hair was wet, his glasses - newer, black framed and rectangular - were smeared and askew. She couldn't quite read his face, there were so many emotions crossing it at once, but there was one that she recognized instantly, one that was all too familiar to her own features. _Want. _She remembered that - she remembered wanting him, so badly, and she remembered he'd wanted her too, at one point.

The nights in the Forest of Dean had proved to be too much for two mildly attractive, hormonal teenagers. They'd slept together, on more than a few occasions, until Ron had returned. Hell, even after that, they had snuck off to indulge in what could only be described as a frenzied pairing of two people who couldn't get enough of each other. They'd been each others firsts. After the final battle, Harry was reunited with Ginny, and Hermione and Ron were given a chance, but neither couple had become official for quite some time. There were awkward dates, usually the four of them together, in which anyone and everyone could literally feel the heat and physical tension between Harry and Hermione. Neither Weasley chose to ask, and neither would ever get an official answer. They were both too afraid, and too grateful that despite whatever had happened, they had who they wanted then - Ginny had Harry, Ron had Hermione. Harry and Hermione, however, had different ideas. They still met, in private, every night for dinner. They didn't always sleep together, but it wasn't infrequent. In time, they stopped meeting.

They dated their respective partners for seven months before Hermione decided to speak up. It was the night before one of the Weasley dinners, and she'd owled Harry and asked him to meet her for lunch on her lunch break from St. Mungo's. Surprisingly, he'd shown up.

_"We need to talk, Harry. They don't know anything, and it's killing me to..."_

_"They don't need to know. What's in the past is in the past, Hermione, I... you know how much I care about you. And how much I care about Ron and Ginny. We can't hurt them, not now."_

_"We should have told them ages ago!" _

_"But we didn't! And maybe that was a mistake."_

_"Were we a mistake, Harry?"_

_He paused, looked her in the eyes, and blinked. "Never."_

After the following argument, tears, and agreement - that they should probably never speak of it again, and probably shouldn't be meeting alone again, either - they continued on in silence. Ginny and Ron, both too pleased with their relationships, never stopped to think twice about the fact that Hermione and Harry weren't nearly as good of friends as they had been before. In a few months, Ron and Hermione would lose their relationship to awkwardness and too much work, and would settle for a purely physical relationship, while still keeping up the pretense of being official solely for appearance's sake.

Six months later, Harry was in her foyer. Dripping rainwater onto her wood floors. And _breathing_.

"Harry, I..."

"No. No, not this time. No logic. I can't even... I'm here."

"I can see that."

"I was with Ginny and I... I told her everything."

"You did what?"

"I told her. From the beginning."

"You said you didn't want to tell them. You..."

"I know what I did! But I regret it, I have every day since then. I tried with Gin, I really did, but... I never had with her what I had with you. God, it was so powerful, it wasn't like anything I'd ever felt before. Total loss of control. Total... need. I never had that with her. I had to be honest with her, before I hurt her even worse. I can't believe what I had with you.

_I want you here tonight_  
><em> I want you here<em>  
><em> 'Cause I can't believe what I found<em>  
><em> I want you here tonight want you here<em>  
><em> 'Cause nothing is taking me down, down, down...<em>

"Hermione, can I stay? Ginny kicked me out, I have nowhere else to go, I..."

"Harry."

"I can't focus, my brain isn't working properly, I haven't been able to think of anything but you for weeks now."

"Harry!"

"Hmm?"

"I can't let you invade my life and take me down with you. I've spent the last six months in relative solitude. You made your decision, Harry!"

"And you did as well, didn't you? You didn't really fight me too much on it, in the end. You're not still with Ron, so obviously he wasn't what you wanted."

"How dare you!"

"It's the truth, and you know it!" His breathing was heavy now.

_I remember it well_  
><em> Taxied out of a storm<em>  
><em> To watch you perform<em>  
><em> And my ships were sailing<em>

"Hermione, two weeks ago you gave a speech at the University graduation."

"I remember."

"I came to see you. I watched you. I walked most of the way, I couldn't drive myself. I watched you, and you... you took my breath away. Talking about challenges, and doing things on your own. Talking about seeing the light in the darkness. That's how I felt about you. How I still feel."

"You're insane."

"I'm not! I'm... I don't know what I am. But this is perfectly sane. It's what I've always felt for you, you have to know that."

"I do know it, Harry. I do."

_ I remember it well_  
><em> I was stood in your line<em>  
><em> And your mouth, your mouth, your mind...<em>

"After the speech, there was a meet and greet - remember? Students all came up to meet you and shake your hand. I waited in that line. I changed my appearance, so you wouldn't recognize me. And I got to the front, and shook your hand, and you told me congratulations, and that it was lovely to meet you. I asked you if you'd ever loved Harry Potter..."

"That was you? Oh, gods, I can't... why would you do that?"

"I had to."

"What made you think I'd tell a stranger the secret?"

"What did you tell me, Hermione? Do you remember?"

She did. She let out her own shaky breath, looked at her feet and back up at him again, and spoke in barely over a whisper - "I told him yes. Yes, I had loved Harry Potter."

He had to watch her lips speak the words to believe them. "And I walked away and accepted that yes, you did still love me. And it got me thinking that I was with the wrong woman. I have been for a while."

_I want you here tonight_  
><em> I want you here<em>  
><em> 'Cause I can't believe what I found<em>  
><em> I want you here tonight want you here<em>  
><em> Nothing is taking me down, down, down...<em>

_ Except you my love. Except you my love..._

He turned to leave. Yes, maybe she still loved him. But if she wanted him still, she could have said something. There was, quite suddenly and strongly, a hand on his shoulder. Hers.

"Harry, I... stay."

He turned slowly towards her, the tears leaving his eyes. He wiped his glasses clean, taking his first perfectly clear look at her. Seeing her for what seemed like the first time. He'd hurt her - and badly. What had he been thinking? They could have been together. They never had to hold up false pretenses for anyone. It wouldn't have hurt anyone, if they'd done it that soon. But he'd been an idiot.

"Harry, you're... I can't even believe you're here right now. I'm still somewhat convinced that I'm dreaming. But you can stay. As long as you like. We'll have to talk, of course, and set some ground rules but... because... oh, Harry. I've been living six months in solitude. This is the most alive I've felt since..."

"Since we were last together? I know the feeling." He closed the distance between them.

"Harry? You had better not hurt me again..."

"I never meant to, I..."

_Come all ye lost_  
><em> Dive into moss<em>  
><em> I hope that my sanity covers the cost<em>  
><em> To remove the stain of my love<em>  
><em> In paper mache<em>

"Harry. You're lucky I have the stability to have been able to hide it all this time. You have no idea how many times I chatted idly with Ginny in the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to tell her the truth. What we felt for each other was pretty obvious, and through her own denial or just her deluded idea that you were completely hers now... she let it go. She never asked. I hid it well. And I hid it well from Ron, too. He asked - oh, he asked. Four times, actually, we broke up because he knew something had happened, and I wouldn't admit it."

"I never asked you to hide it."

"Don't say that. You did. You know you did."

He nodded. Well, okay. Yes he had. But...

"Harry, just... I should have told them earlier. You should have told Gin earlier. We've probably hurt them worse, with this. You hurt me worse, too. You very nearly killed me, ending things like you did. I just suddenly stopped seeing you. I didn't love it. I tried really, really hard to erase every memory of you from this house. And at last, a few weeks ago, I'd succeeded, down to emptying your drawer in the dresser and tossing out all the quills you'd left. I filled the drawer with my own socks and locked the drawer shut. There's no evidence that you were ever here. I covered it all."

He nodded. She'd deserved to. He knew it, they all knew it.

_Come all ye reborn_  
><em> Blow off my horn<em>  
><em> I'm driving real hard<em>  
><em> This isn't love, this is porn<em>  
><em> God will forgive me<em>  
><em> But I, I whip myself with scorn, scorn<em>

"How exactly did you tell Gin, by the way?"

"It's not something I'll ever be proud of."

"Spill. Now."

He finally moved from the entrance, following her to a couch in her sitting room. They'd been on this couch before, but...

"We'd been out to dinner. She talked the entire time about her boring new job, not that she has anything to compare it to. She wouldn't shut up. I took her home and attempted to have sex with her - likely to shut her up. But I... I wasn't even attracted to her. I couldn't... I couldn't do it."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Worse. I couldn't even hide the fact that I wasn't interested. I tried for nearly twenty minutes before she shoved me off. She told me I didn't love her anymore. I didn't hide it. I agreed. She started crying, and I started crying, and she told me she knew there was something between us, sort of. I told her that wasn't it, but she's not an idiot. She kicked me out on my ass and told me if I wanted to be with you, here was my chance. I didn't take it as a tongue lashing. She's right. So I'm... here."

"Wow."

"I've made a mistake. And I'm not happy with myself for it. But it lead me here, so..." He looked up at her hopefully.

_I wanna hear what you have to say about me_  
><em> Hear if you're gonna live without me<em>  
><em> I wanna hear what you want<em>  
><em> I remember December<em>

"Hermione, what I'm trying to say, is can we try this again?"

"Honestly, Harry, I don't know."

"I expected better than that, but okay. Talk."

"Harry, you broke my heart and dangled it on a string, all those nights we had to do dinner and dates together. You just... you taunted me. I don't know what you expected me to say. I'm not going to jump back into your arms. I'm much more careful than I used to be."

"I know. I just... I want you. All the time. I want you in my arms, in my head, in my bed. I just can't live without you, alright? It's hard enough for me to be here right now, just hours after my life fell apart, and to admit all this... do you remember Christmas? In the forest?"

"I remember that entire December. Yes."

"It was like nothing I'd ever felt before, and nothing I'd ever feel again."

"I... me too. Oh, Harry. I hate this. I do. I want to just say okay, that I'd love to be yours again. But..."

_ And I wanna hear what you have to say about me_  
><em> Hear if you're gonna live without me<em>  
><em> I wanna hear what you want<em>  
><em> What the hell do you want?<em>

"But what? _What? _Hermione, I just... give me an answer. Please. Give me something. Tell me how much you hate me, or how much you love me. Tell me if you really want me to stay, or if you'd rather I leave and never come back again. Just please, Hermione..."

"Harry! Enough. I gave you my answer. I... I want you to stay. I don't know how things are going to go from here. We can't have any expectations, so any ideas you have about the future, please get rid of them now. I don't know if I can love you like I did again. Of course I still love you, and apparently now you still love me too. But that can't make everything good again."

It was as good as he was going to get. Hermione wasn't much for mushy feelings. He saw her flick her wand and summon a few pillows and blankets.

"You stay down here. The couch pulls out, the bed's actually pretty comfortable. I slept on it for a few weeks after you left me because... we'd been together on my bed. It hurt too much. I need sleep. I was just going to bed when you showed up. I want you here tonight, I can't believe I've found you again, but don't think this conversation is over."

On the eighth stair up, she heard him. "Goodnight, Hermione."

She hesitated, and her response came out raspy and quiet. She'd never expected being able to say this to him again, and now she was. She just still wasn't sure if they'd make it past morning.

"Goodnight, Harry."


	2. Your Glasses

**AN: You know the drill. Pull it up on youtube. Repeat. note that in one or two little sections, I've changed she to he, for the sake of the fic. The last segment repeats three times at the end, one has a slight variation - I left in that one and one other, but removed a duplicate - for the sake of the fic.  
><strong>

Maria Mena - Your Glasses 

_What could you possibly see in me?_  
><em> Is my soul hung out to dry?<em>  
><em> I think my dysfunctional family has shaped it throughout my life.<em>

She sat with a glass in her hand. The liquid, though transparent, was not water, but something that would help ease the pain. It had been five and a half months, and she still could not get the images out of her mind. Snow was beginning to fall in earnest, the first real storm of the season. If she were back at Hogwarts... but she wasn't. There was only Hermione. Only her sitting room, in her dreary apartment slightly off-campus from the wizarding university she'd chosen to attend, along with a few other graduates from her year. It was sad, really, what had happened to them all. Neville was somewhere in South America, studying plants. Alone. Luna was back at Hogwarts, alone. Ginny was at home - recently sick with Spattergroit, ironically. Probably wouldn't finish. Probably had to go back for another year. Dean and Seamus had done well, actually. They each lived in apartments in her building, she passed by them frequently, and she'd gone to dinner with Dean a few times. It was fun, actually, until they started talking about _him. _Then it was all awkward chit-chat and Hermione dodging another set of questions before she could politely change the subject to an exam or a class. Dean knew she didn't have class on weekends, but he never stopped her. He, among others, knew that when it came to Harry, Hermione didn't like to talk about it.

There was a knock at the door. She knew exactly who it was, and she had half a mind not to answer it at all. Things would go the same as they always did - a bitter argument, yelling, crying, hugging, and then likely a mostly-physical, somewhat-emotional night of making up and hating each other equally.

"I know you're still up. I can hear your radio."

Damn that retched thing. Anyone who knew Hermione knew she shut it off well before bed every night - she had to sleep in complete silence.

"Open up, Hermione. I just... I want to talk to you."

She obeyed. The door open and he stepped in and shook off his coat like he owned the place, flicking his wand to start a fire in the fireplace of her previously dark living room. Now, her apartment was bright and occupied. This night was not going as planned.

"What do you want?"

"Hermione, are you drunk?"

"I was on my way. I'm not entirely. It's the weekend, I'm free to..."

"Get drunk, alone, in your dark apartment? Sure, if you're an alcoholic hermit with avoidance issues."

"You know me too well, Harry."

"I am your best friend."

"You're my only friend, and even you hate me."

"For the last time, I do not hate you. Not at all."

"Then why do you hurt me like this?"

He couldn't answer that. They both knew the answer - because neither of them wanted to stop, no matter how much it hurt them both. He took a seat on her couch beside her, summoning his own glass to fill.

"My dad used to talk a lot when he drank. He never drank often - bad for your heart, bad for your teeth or something - but when he did, he was an open book."

"You've adopted that trait as well. I don't hate it."

"Of course you don't. I tell you what you want to hear."

"Bingo." Harry took a swig, smiling at her over the glass. Why had she let him in, again? "I like that about you. You don't just tell me I'm amazing and thanks for saving the world. You tell me I'm colossal arse and that I don't deserve to talk to you and that you fucking hate me."

"And you never do seem to listen. You always come back."

"Call me an emotional masochist. I eat it up."

"And you come back for seconds."

It was all too easy to fall into this pattern. This was what they did. This was... but why?

_What could you possibly like in me?_  
><em>Do you like my ability to bend?<em>  
><em>I think my fear of intimacy has shaped the time we spend.<em>

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why, Harry, do we keep doing this? Hitting ourselves over the heads? Opening the doors?"

"Because what else are we supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to stay true to your girlfriend."

"And you to your... Dean."

"Oh, shut it. We've just been on a few dates. We don't have the background that you and Gin do."

"I like when you snap at me. Nobody else does. Merlin forbid they upset Saint Potter."

"Yes, well, I'm your best friend. I get to tell you when you're being an idiot when no one else will."

"It's why I love you. Among other things..." He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she rolled her eyes. This was, of course, their usual joke. Even in the company of friends, one of them (almost always Harry) would make a joke about something being stretchy, or point out the abilities of a bendy straw. Having taken dance a bit as a child and having done yoga or stretching every morning of her life, she'd developed a flexibility that drove him wild.

Still, she hated when he said that. _I love you_. It seemed so right, coming from him - of course it did - but so wrong, as well. They were both seeing other people. They agreed it was for the best. Ever since that damn night in the Forest of Dean...

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to...?"

"Not yet. We have to argue first."

"In either case, let's have another one." He filled their glasses, laughing slightly. "We're idiots, you know?"

"Yeah, but Harry, I'm worse than you, sometimes."

"You're the brightest witch of our age, and now you're a liar."

"No, just in... social situations. Friends. Relationships. _Sex._"

"What about it?"

"I just... don't usually feel comfortable doing it. Unless I've been drinking, in which case I'm far more likely to engage in such behavior."

"Have you done the deed with Dean?"

"Harry!"

"Well?"

"Yes. I have."

"Oh."

He hadn't been expecting that, she could tell. she wasn't lying - far from it. Dinner once or twice a week had turned into dinner and a movie at his place, which had turned into dinner and a movie and cuddling/making out/having sex on his futon. She wasn't ashamed of it, not in the slightest. For someone she'd considered barely a friend all of these years, he'd turned into an excellent lover. Other than that, though, she was terrified of men. She stuck with Dean, she supposed, because they were comfortable enough with each other to date until the other decided it was time to move on. It was nice, really, but when Dean finally found someone better, Hermione's fear of trying to - Merlin forbid - attract a man, would not be easy.

_No it's not you, it's me_  
><em>and it's not us, it's them<em>  
><em>and it's not her, it's just the way she moves you?<em>  
><em>and she kisses harder than me, oh she kisses harder than me.<em>

"I want to apologize, Harry. You shouldn't be here."

"No, I'm apologizing for showing up. I'd leave now, but you and I both know I can't apparate after drinking..."

She winced, thinking of it. Last month, he'd splinched off the pinky finger of his left hand. He never had it replaced. He _liked _it, in some sick, weird way. _Men. _

"Yes. Well... I just don't know, Harry. I could have turned you away."

"This isn't your fault. It's mine."

"Is it?"

"We could blame it on everyone else, if you wish."

She laughed, filling her glass just half full this time. "Oh? And who could we blame?"

"Everyone. All of them. We're mad at each other, we're sitting bitter in your sitting room, because of them - their expectations, their moral code."

'Excuse me?"

"You know what I'm saying. Ron left you, Ginny got Spattergroit - Ron was a git, Ginny knows what happened between us, for the most part."

"_Happens_, you mean. I'm assuming you've neglected to inform her that this still goes on."

"Oh, well yeah. And I'm assuming you never told Ron."

"It would kill him. I'd never."

"Exactly. But if it wouldn't cause such a public scandal - if we were just normal people, attracted to each other despite our predetermined Weasley relationships... we could just tell them. And deal with the consequences. And maybe you and I would end up together, huh?"

"Something like it." She took another sip off her glass. "But I honestly don't see what's stopping you now. When's the last time you saw her?"

"Six months ago. She's been sick for four, so technically the two before that."

"Two months. Your girlfriend is a broom ride or apparition away, and you hadn't seen her in two months?"

"I see your point."

"I don't see yours."

"I'm supposed to be with Ginny."

"According to whom?"

"Everyone. Including myself."

"You said 'supposed to be'."

"I know, I heard it. We've had this discussion before, Hermione..."

"What, about how young she is? How she has to rush into everything? Harry, she's not even a legal adult and she's talking about marrying you. You've only been back together a few months, really."

"But I can see myself marrying her. We'd be... happy."

"Because she'd be working desperately to try and hold on to you. We all see it."

She'd never admitted this to him out loud before - or anyone but Dean, for that matter - but Hermione found Ginny to be a little overly dramatic, and a little bit of an attention whore. Of course, with her world-famous Potter boyfriend on her arm, the world was alright - she just had to shove herself on him whenever she could in order to keep him. And even that, apparently, was not enough to keep him from coming to see Hermione. She didn't dare say anything - the time she got with Harry was enough, she wasn't going to give that up.

_And I've always looked in through your glasses,_  
><em>but all I could see, is the spectre of me reflected<em>  
><em>the empty shell of me, the empty shell of me.<em>

"I think, Harry, that you're a little bit too much like me."

"How is that?"

"You're intelligent. You're a little socially awkward. You and I enjoy the same things. We're both introverts by nature. Well, you more than me at times. We've both gotten a little OCD since the months in the Forest of Dean. And you... you do this thing, that I do. Where you convince yourself that something is making you happy, just so you can trick yourself into being happy."

She looked up at him and saw herself - literally and metaphorically. His brows were knit, deep in concentration. Of course, she was right. But she saw herself reflected in his glasses - her skin was pale, the spots under her eyes dark from lack of sleep or crying. Her cheeks were flushed from drinking, her hair was sitting lamely in a bun atop her head. She hadn't put on makeup since the night before, but traces of that still stood smudged on her eyelids, top and bottom. She didn't care, she couldn't care. Not anymore.

"Perhaps you're right, 'Mione. Perhaps we're a little too alike."

What was the male equivalent of smudged makeup? She did suppose Harry's hair was messier than it usually was, but that wasn't really an indicator. He was twisting his watch around his wrist, checking the clock, tapping his fingers. She could see the gears turning in his head. He had dark circles under his eyes too. His shoes were untied. She was pretty sure he hadn't showered today. _That _was the equivalent. Harry was usually a complete mess, but bad hygiene wasn't his norm. He looked a little or a lot like her - bothered, alone, empty.

_What could you possibly love in me?_  
><em>Is it the way I wear my smile?<em>  
><em>It hangs from the tip of my tongue you see, oh this might take awhile.<em>

"You could be living so much better, Hermione."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You're sitting alone in your apartment drinking cheap vodka. You're a mess, as much as I am_._ But you... you've got a boyfriend who actually seems to really like you, and you're doing well in your upper division classes, and you've got your own place. You deserve to be happy. But you're all in a mess."

"And it's absolutely your fault."

"I know. That's what I'm saying. Why? Why not just kick me aside, tell me to do the right thing and love my... Ginny. What the hell is it, exactly? If you didn't... feel for me too, we wouldn't be here. Why?"

"Why? We're both... I guess because during the war, on the hunt... you were so optimistic. You always knew that somehow, we would win. That somehow, things would be alright. And soon I started believing that you would make them happen, and then you did - I came to associate things going okay, with you. You succeed, all the time. I need someone else successful, and happy, really. I need happiness again so that I can stop being so... sad, I suppose."

"But I make you sad."

"You don't, though. Somehow, even when I hate you, you make me feel... _wanted_. Like even though we're fighting, and most people think we'd rather not be near each other, you show up here at my door. For me."

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I. This might take a while."

_No it's not you, it's me_  
><em>and it's not us, it's them<em>  
><em>sure it's not him, it's just the way he moves you?<em>  
><em>and he kisses harder than me, oh he kisses harder than me.<em>

"Except, Harry - this is my fault."

"I'm the one who knocked."

"But only because I didn't set up wards to keep you out."

"This is true."

"But I get what you were saying - about, if we were anyone else... I think we could. If we were. But we aren't, so we can't."

"What?"

"I'm saying that this makes it all harder on us - our friends all being close, the media still watching our every move, do you remember how many times I had to read about Ron leaving me? It got more and more ridiculous. If it was just us..."

"Yeah, but I'm with Ginny. And you're with Dean."

"I told you, Harry, it's... complicated."

"I haven't been with another woman - even Ginny - since the end of the war. And even then, she and I only did it a few times. You seem perfectly comfortable and happy with Dean."

"Comfortable, maybe, but..."

"But what? You're with him. You're obviously having sex with him. You've let that much of yourself go to him."

"I am. But it's not Dean at all, it's not that I have feelings that strong for Dean or anything, it's just..."

"Just what? You've been dating him for a few months? Screwing him? Messing around, doing... whatever it is the two of you do?"

"Stop it! It's not Dean at all, I'm simply spending time with someone who doesn't have his time split between two women!"

"And oh, that's so much better? Because you're not also seeing me?"

"It's different!"

"Is it?"

"I don't know! Damn it, Harry, if Dean responded to me even half as strongly as you do, we wouldn't be having this problem.

_And I've always looked in through your glasses,_  
><em>but all I could see, is the spectre of me reflected<em>  
><em>the empty shell of me, the empty shell of me.<em>

"So Dean isn't as good as you'd have hoped, eh?"

"It's not that. He just... isn't as attracted to me, I guess, as you seem to be. I mean, he tells me all the time that he likes my eyes or my smile, but that's about where he stops. The last time you were here, you kissed me head to toe and told me you loved every cell in my body. How does that compare? And if Dean - an old school acquaintance, a new friend, similar to every new man I'll ever meet in my life - only loves me like he does, what are my chances of finding someone else that responds to me like you do? And why do you even do that? Why love every cell in my body, when half of them squirm whenever you're near? And why love things like - oh, what was it? Oh, the little dimples in my lower back - why love those if turning my back to you is the only way I feel at peace with you?"

"Then why, Hermione, do you never blink when you look in my eyes? Why do you constantly play with my hair, and tell me how good everything feels, and whatever else?"

"The same reasons you do, I guess. I wondered one time, what it would be like to look at people through someone else's eyes. I'm a little judgemental and a little shallow, I hate that about myself. But I look at my reflection in the mirror and see frizzy hair and a short stature and short eyelashes and whatever, when you see the dimples in my back or whatever? That. What do you see? I've always tried to look at myself in your eyes, to tell myself that I will find someone else who looks at me like you do - but maybe there isn't anyone else. Maybe you're the only one."

_And I've tried to look in through your glasses,_  
><em>but all I could see, was the spector of me reflected,<em>  
><em>the empty shell of me, the empty shell of me<em>

"Again, we're just... too similar. I wonder why you keep letting me come back. I wonder why you let me leave, late at night, instead of making me stay - though you know that any of our friends seeing me leaving your flat could go back. You let us just look at each other, and I do the same thing. Why would you do that? I'm an emotional wreck, I'm a socially undeveloped moral idiot, and yet you come back to me every time, even after I try to stay away because I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Harry, its like... I never knew. I just assumed you were better with this than I am. I just..."

"Every time I look at you, now, I see me."

"Pardon?"

"I look at you and I'm seeing you feel the same things I'm feeling. It's like I'm feeling what you're feeling, because I am."

"Excuse me?"

"Hermione, I just... this is hard. On both of us."

"Do you want to be with me, Harry?"

"Of course I do. You just... you know why. There are issues."

"But if you want to be with me, and I want to be with you... we should find a way. Break things off with Ginny. I'll end things with Dean. He'll understand, trust me. And we'll... we'll work on it."

"Let's not think that far ahead. I can't... I'm going to talk to Gin tomorrow. Maybe go see her."

"Okay."

"Until then, I think... let's at least just lay down and watch a movie."

"I... alright. Just in case though, you have...?"

"Yeah."

She figured he was prepared. Of course. The pair laid down in her bed and started watching a film, which they did not finish.

Instead of waking up at three in the morning to Harry sneaking out of her apartment, earnestly trying to avoid letting any of their friends become aware of what they'd been up to, she woke at nine. To snoring. Perhaps now Harry was realizing just how similar they were. And perhaps he was realizing that they couldn't ignore anything anymore. That they were driving themselves crazy, trying to hide their true feelings. Perhaps he'd just allowed himself to sleep in and risk being seen. And perhaps - most importantly of all - she could allow herself an additional fifteen minutes to curl up against his warm back and lay with the man she might just possibly love.


	3. The Freshman Year Appeal

**AN: I just keep coming up with one-shot ideas... figured this one out today between job interviews and figured I'd give it a go. Warning, slight steamyness ahead, possibly a little lemon or two... hehe. Probably not anything worth changing the rating over, but definitely a little raunch. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"What was your last one?"<p>

"Runes in Ancient History... probably my easiest class of the semester."

"Ugh, I got stuck with muggle maths last... I _despise _muggle maths."

The pair walked down the tree-lined pathway at University of Merlin, kicking small stones and pulling at their shirts. It had been exactly three weeks since Harry had finally given Ginny the boot, and she probably couldn't have cared less. However, the resulting awkwardness behind everyone in the group being absolutely, utterly single - and the mix of end-of-semester parties, the excitement of two weeks off before the next semester, and the excitement over their first semester at university finally being over - had created a sort of nervous frenzy within all of them. All other predetermined, preconceived notions of what their social structure had been before, were gone - Harry was over Ginny, Hermione and Ron had been over each other since before they had even started, really. Dean had stopped switching off dating the Patil twins, Seamus had a bit of a crush and letter-to-letter relationship with Luna, who would graduate this year from Hogwarts.

It was a whole new game, and nobody was quite ready to play.

Hermione and Harry had been spending good amounts of time together - with Harry's newfound single status, he had a lot more free time and a lot more general freedom than he'd had when he was dating his ginger counterpart, and Hermione snatched up his time as she could - it was almost as much fun as spending her Saturday nights with Dean, Seamus, Ron, and Neville at whatever local pub they chose to haunt, but she had a feeling that was only because she had yet to really, truly drink with Harry.

She wondered what he was like, when he drank - either really silly, or really weepy, probably. She couldn't picture him ever really being angry. She knew that personally, she was almost always giddy - giggling, putting her arm around someone, making a poor attempt at cracking a joke. College had definitely changed her. Harry, on the other hand, was nearly unchanged - after a month or two of the Golden Trio doing some serious soul-searching, Hermione doing parent searching, and Ron looking for wherever it was he'd been storing his brain over the last decade - Harry had returned, essentially, to normal.

Their first semester was over - and while the opportunity to attend University had been exciting for all, none of them had been prepared for the bigger course loads, harder and more frequent exams, and complete freedom - which was, at times, a very bad thing.

"Are you going to that party tonight?" He cleaned his glasses - he'd ditched the round wiry frames for something black and plastic, somehow managing to entirely reinvent himself with that one small change - on his shirt, then slipped them back onto his nose and blinked a few times, looking at her. "Because I was thinking, of all nights, tonight is the night to go out."

"Yeah, I was thinking about it. Dean had talked about going to our favorite pub with the guys, but I can definitely convince them that a party is much better."

"I figured. Who would have thought Neville would have changed so much?"

Harry was right - in addition to Neville losing all of his baby fat and putting on a little muscle, he'd also grown quite comfortable with himself, and his only remaining scar - a four inch gash from his right eyebrow down to his jaw - was quite the conversation piece, as far as new females were concerned. It usually got him something he wanted. Who would have thought?

"Yeah. Neville's a bit of a party animal lately, can't say I'm used to it. At all." The pair laughed, and Hermione pulled at her skirt.

"So, I'll see you tonight then? I should probably go get ready. I should shower, I just sort of threw my hair up after mine this morning and..."

"It looks... pretty, though. Falls by your face."

He made a face she'd seen on him plenty of times in the past decade - attempting not to grin from ear to ear. _Interesting. _In all honesty, she loved that face on him - along with most other faces he made. And his face in general. She just... liked it. His face.

_And him. _Yeah, she liked Harry, more than she'd thought, and now that he wasn't with Ginny, maybe she could...

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's all get something to eat, beforehand. We'll get dinner somewhere, pick up drinks, and then head over - Morrison House is having the party, right?"

"Yes."

_"_Alright, good. I'll... I'll walk by your place at seven, okay? Get everyone to show up around then."

"I'll try. Talk to Ron for me?"

"Sure. I can't believe we're roommates again, after everything..."

She rolled her eyes and began walking towards her dorm, in the opposite direction_. _

"I'll see you tonight then. And Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Wear that green shirt - the button up, long sleeves? Really brings out your eyes."

Before she could die of embarrassment, Hermione turned and shuffled into her dorm building, climbing the stairs two at a time and greeting her three suitemates - Ginny, Padma, and Hannah - and letting them know of their plans before shutting her door and fretting over what to wear. She had two hours. That _should _be enough time.

* * *

><p><em>He wore the shirt. <em>She smiled in a sort of tiny triumph. He'd wanted to wear what she wanted him to wear, which was a start. Hermione, on the other hand, had dressed up just a little, as most of the girls had - a little dress and heels. Hermione's was, albeit, the _sexiest _thing she owned. Ginny had bought it for her for her birthday, and she'd had yet to wear it. It was one shouldered, with an elbow-length sleeve on one side and the other side leaving her shoulder and arm completely bare. It showed just the perfect hint of cleavage, though perhaps a little more leg than she was comfortable with. She wore nude heels and silver bangles, and dressed up a little underneath, too. There was no shame in it - if she happened to hook up with someone (namely, Harry) then he could appreciate what she'd worn underneath. If not, she felt more confident wearing it anyway, and that was enough for her. After shoving roughly half of her makeup bag into a little clutch and curling her hair, she stepped out to see suite-mates in various stages of being ready, and Dean, Harry, Neville, and Michael Corner stood in the kitchenette, drinking a beer or two and chatting about classes and girls - a few of which were the girls in front of them.

"Have you seen Hermione when she gets all dressed up? Man, Ron's an idiot for letting that slip..."

"Dean Thomas, I heard that."

"The lovely lady herself. You planned all this?"

"Sort of. Harry and I did." Harry smiled at her, and crossed the little circle of people to stand beside her.

"Ah, you and Potter, eh?"

"What about someone and Potter?" At the worst moment possible, Ron stepped through the door. "Harry's right here."

"We _know _that, Ron. I was just telling him how lovely Hermione looks."

At this, Harry turned to her. "He didn't need to tell me, anyway, I can see. You look..

"Yeah, Hermione cleans up nice." Ron put a hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek - they had been comfortable enough with each other lately that this was standard procedure, but with Harry beside them she wanted no part of it. She smiled weakly at him and shifted her weight so that she was leaning closer to Harry.

"Anyway, who still isn't ready yet?" Ginny and Padma had just stepped out, and only Hannah - who called out that she couldn't find her shoes - was missing. Ginny ran in to help her find them and within a minute, they were all ready. Dinner was just a short walk from their building, and then the party... Hermione couldn't tell if she was terrified or excited.

* * *

><p>Midway through dinner, they'd realized that George sat in a corner with a girlfriend he'd been seeing recently, a rather odd sort of girl that reminded them all greatly of Luna, but four years older. They were all entirely sure that when Luna joined them next year, the two would be good friends. George heard about their plans for the party and convinced his girlfriend to join in - once they were finished with dinner, it was only a matter of collecting money to buy a few bottles of something to make them all forget about finals entirely. George took their money and sent them off to the party, returning with a good sized bottle of firewhiskey for every two people.<p>

"It's like Christmas! One for you, and one for the two of you, pair up, then! Harry and Hermione, take this one... I got the one Hermione likes." George winked at her, and she thought she might die. There had been a few weeks at the very start of the school year where their enthusiasm of seeing each other was great - they flirted for a few weeks, and he'd nearly tortured her over it since then. Harry eyed the both of them curiously before George moved on.

"George is a flirt, is all."

"Of course he'd be, with you, I guess..." Harry tried desperately to make it seem like he hadn't meant that, but shook it off. "Anyway, are you ready?"

They'd reached the door - there was loud rock music coming through every window, people hanging out in the hallways and residence rooms, and people sitting or standing outside, playing various drinking games or just chatting. "Yeah, I suppose I have to be."

George watched the two walk inside - Harry had opened the bottle, and he'd watched the boy reach twice for Hermione's hand - Hermione was probably too excited to notice it, but it hadn't skipped over George. His girlfriend stood by his side and sighed.

"Watching?"

"Yeah. I've got a product for the new, well, sort of _adult_ line at the shop that I'm going to try out on Harry and Hermione. They'll actually probably enjoy it quite a bit."

"Do you have it?"

"No, they do." He raised his own bottle and grinned. "Cheers. This is going to be good..."

* * *

><p>"No, you!"<p>

"Oh, bollocks. Her... Hermione. You can't honestly tell me that you think that I'm better looking than you."

"Oh, whatever, Harry. You know it's true, or I would have had more boyfriends."

"You're just so damn... tightly wound. Most guys were intimidated by it in school. But perhaps things are different now. I meant what I was... well, what I was about to say, anyway. You really do look _amazing _tonight."

She blushed, and it looked nice on her pale cheeks. Harry hadn't remembered drinking this much, but he was as loose-lipped as could be. He wanted to tell Hermione everything - that he'd dumped Gin because he didn't get that nervous, rushy feeling he did when he was around Hermione. That he'd sort of always found her attractive. That he wanted her, in some weird crazy partially whiskey-induced way. Perhaps he just needed a little more to drink, maybe it would numb him a little...

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"When you're done guzzling out of that bottle, hand it to me. Let's finish it. Now. And let's... I don't know, I don't mind standing close to you in this awkward corner in Morrison house, but perhaps somewhere quieter? It's a bit loud in here and you know that when things get loud..."

"You get nervous. Right." He stopped drinking and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. He watched her tilt the bottle back, her lips pressed around the neck a little, and drink - eyes closed and peaceful, for a moment.

George watched for a distance. Anyone who know body language knew what was about to happen. She was practically leaning on him, he had one hand on her arm, they were pushing their, well, pelvic areas a little towards each other. It appeared his product was working perfectly, until Harry burst out laughing, and then Hermione finished her drink and _she_ started laughing. He was afraid that they'd realize that he'd slipped potion into his drink before he realized what the ill-effect of laughter had been caused by - he'd made it in the cauldron he usually reserved for making a laugh-inducing potion. _Right. _And then, of course, he'd made this potion for his adult line, and had grabbed the first one available. The laugh-inducing potion would mix strangely with this one - an aphrodisiac if there ever was one. It was supposed to add just a hint of chocolate to the drink, and made the person - or persons, in this case - drinking it, quite aroused. As he'd given that bottle to Harry and Hermione - somewhat by chance, but also partially because he'd always assumed there had been repressed attraction between them - he would be able to see if it worked. Apparently, it was. He had set the bottle down on a table, grabbed Hermione's hand, and was leading her to one of the private bedrooms - for who knew what. He had to follow and make sure his product worked... so he sat outside the door and listened...

"You're ridiculous!"

"And you're... fuck, Hermione, you're ridiculously good looking."

"The same could be said for you! That shirt, it's just... not just about your eyes, but the way it fits you and hugs you, I'd like to _be_ that shirt."

"I'd kill to be that dress - or whatever you're wearing under it."

"Oh, wouldn't you like to see?"

"I would, actually."

* * *

><p>The entire time, they were laughing, giggling, it sounded all too playful when you considered what they were saying. George grinned. Not only was his product working, he was highly entertained. His girlfriend joined him, sitting across the hallway and bringing him a drink.<p>

"Anything?"

"Oh yeah, listen in..."

* * *

><p>"Oh. Well, too bad you can't look through my dress, then."<p>

"Just take it off!"

"You'd have to take off yours too, that's not fair."

"I'll take off my shirt."

"No! We can't go piece for piece, you're wearing that shirt and jeans..."

"Fine." Hermione's eyes lowered as Harry's fingers did - button to button, top to bottom. She watched as he unveiled just a little bit more of his chest over time, and marveled at how much he'd toned up even just since the last time she'd seen him shirtless, over summer. He shrugged the shirt of his shoulders and tossed it back onto the bed. He took a deep breath and she watched the muscles move under his skin - his chest, his abs, his arms. Oh, how she'd like to just... oh, he was reaching for his pants, and she was laughing uncontrollably still. It was terrible, what on earth had caused this? A bottle of firewhiskey between them? But nobody else had gotten like this - loose-lipped and honest and _horny... _

She watched the button slip through the hole in his jeans. He reached for his zipper, but before she could realize it, she'd closed the foot and a half between them and covered his hand with her own.

"Let me..." She lowered the zipper and hooked her first fingers over the waist of his pants. Here went nothing - or everything.

He was standing in his boxers before she knew it, and as she straightened herself up to stand in front of him again, they kicked off their shoes and he kicked his pants aside. He _was _a boxers sort of guy. She'd seen him in them before, and she was even more glad for it now.

"Your turn."

"You'll have to unzip me, it's in the back..." She turned and felt his hands on her shoulders, his lips on her neck, and _oh gods _it felt good. She felt the zipper being lowered all the way down to the bottom, where it stopped just above her bum. he slipped the one shoulder off her and pulled the dress off her to reveal a lacy black bra and panties.

"Oh, _wow_." He stepped around her, appraising her. She was hotter than he could have imagined, and he couldn't begin to describe the things he was going to do to her...

* * *

><p>"We should probably leave, dear..." George was motioning towards his girlfriend. The laughs were now being interrupted, frequently, by moaning. It felt a little voyeuristic at this point, and he wasn't sure if he was comfortable with...<p>

"Dean, come here!" George swiveled around to see his girlfriend motioning to Dean Thomas. "Harry and Hermione are in there hooking up!"

"You're joking! I've got to... let me go get Seamus."

Dean returned no more than two minutes later with Seamus, Ginny, Ron, Neville, Michael, Parvati, Padma, Hannah, and half of the party. "Harry Potter and Hermione Granger! In there!" He half-whispered, half-shouted to the crowd. "They've been in there all night!"

"Oh, not _all _night..." George now felt a little strange about this. He hadn't intended on everyone else finding out. There was a rather loud moan - sounding female - that came from behind the door, and most of the men high-fived.

"Props to Potter for cracking that one, Merlin himself knows we'd all like to..." Michael Corner and even Neville nodded at Dean's interjection. "Wow. Go Harry."

The group stood outside, listening for what they could hear, waiting for the moment the pair - previously best friends - would emerge. Dean turned to Ginny and Ron.

"And this bothers neither of you?"

Ron shook his head. "Hermione and I... never really worked out. Though I can't say I didn't think about Hermione like that quite a bit over the years."Plus, you know. I'm not exactly lonely." He nodded towards a gorgeous half-veela girl in the corner, who waved at him and winked when she saw him.

Ginny laughed. "I knew Harry was leaving me for her, really. I was just so... over it, and over him. He's a little whiney, for me."

Dean nodded and grinned, George watching on. As long as no one was bothered by it...

* * *

><p>Naked as the day they were born and writhing endlessly together, Harry paused for breath.<p>

"What the hell is happening... it's like I can't stop, and don't want to. And _Hermione_, gods, you're just so... you feel really, really good."

"I know, it's like... do you think someone slipped us something?"

"The only one who could have is George..."

"Oh Harry, George had just mentioned this to me last week! He's starting a sort of adult line, he's perfecting an aphrodisiac potion..."

"Well, now we know part of why it happened. I won't say all of it, obviously, I've kind of wanted you for a while..."

"We should go somewhere. Someone's bound to find us soon here. We can go..."

"We can go to my place."

"Don't you live with Ron?"

"He's not going to come back for ages. Didn't you see that veela girl talking to him? He'll hang on that all night."

"Fine." The pair reluctantly rose from the bed, dressing quickly - Harry didn't even bother buttoning his shirt or tying his shoes, he was stuffing his things in his pockets and ready to go in no time.

"I'm no virgin, Harry - we both know neither of us are - but you really do make me feel like one again, gods, it's like... and well, you're bigger than Ron..."

* * *

><p>Ron resented that last statement, and half of the group seemed to turn to him as it was spoken. <em>Fantastic.<em>

Before he had a chance to make up for it, the door opened - a very frazzled looking Hermione dragging Harry out by the hand.

George stood immediately, grinning sheepishly.

Hermione paused only momentarily to glare at him between laughs.

"_George Gideon Weasley, _if this were any different I would _murder _you... but I will thank you another day for the free product and for the... eye-opening opportunity." She laughed at her own joke and continued to pull Harry - who just shrugged and laughed along - out of the room. The entire population of the party seemed to stand still as the couple nearly raced out the front door, laughing the whole way.

"Well, I can't say I didn't see it coming!" George yelled out, and everyone in the room laughed.

Ron, Dean, Ginny, and the collective students of their year at Hogwarts turned to each other though and nodded. Each of them had pretty much seen it happening, regardless.


	4. Coconut Skins

**AN: Back to an angsty bit. As most of my fics go, this one takes place a few years after they leave Hogwarts... this one, though, is only just about a year after. They've had the opportunity to attend a University (as they did in the last one) but turned it down - Hermione needed a year to relax, and Harry wanted to wait for Ginny. Ron's working for George, and despite everything they went through - he and Hermione never really worked out. She's painfully single and she's had a year to think everything over - and it wasn't Ron she wanted, after all... Set to Damien Rice's "Coconut Skins" - different from the other song of his I've used, but then the circumstances are quiet different, too. Instead of some long, angsty backstory about Harry and Hermione, it's really quiet short - just a few days prior to this, something happened that neither of them expected. Yes, I delete repeat verses/chorus bits, if I have to - it can make a songfic way too repetitive. You'll notice I scratched the last chorus here (minus a VERY tiny part), but it's the same as the last one. Read on, and review!**

* * *

><p><span>Damien Rice - Coconut Skins<span>

_You can hold her hand_  
><em> And show her how you cry<em>  
><em> Explain to her your weakness<em>  
><em> So she understands<em>  
><em> And then roll over and die<em>

Five hundred... five hundred and one... there. Room five hundred and two. If it had been a coincidence, she may have laughed. But the date stood there in gleaming brass numbers on the green doors. Generic patterned curtains covered the windows - it was dark inside. She didn't know what she'd expected, but it hadn't been this. It was silent, except for - yes. She'd heard correctly. A slight rustle of blankets on a creaky bed.

"Harry? Open up."

No reply.

"I know you're in there. May second, Harry? It's the hotel room number you've chosen any time you've stayed anywhere in the past year." She figured it gave him a sense of pride, seeing the date of the final battle whenever he walked in these doors. It had messed him up, but they'd won.

"You're being ridiculous, Harry. I saw your car _and _I got your letter. And I can hear you moving in there."

Nothing.

"Fine, I'll say everything I need to say, right here. I hope you're listening."

In case he wasn't really trying, she cast a charm on the door - it would be like she was speaking to him directly, not through two inches of wood.

"I don't know if this is because of what happened... I'm assuming it is. Ginny called me this morning. She wanted to know... everything. I don't know if it was because she didn't trust you, or what... honestly, she shouldn't. Obviously. But I told her, in case you hadn't. She's still my _friend_, Harry, despite how I feel. And how you feel, too. It's... gods, I don't want to say it's _natural _to feel this way. You're my _best friend_, Harry. Not anyone else in the world. Just you. She told me how upset you were - crying, admitting everything. I just don't... I don't understand, I guess.

"Three days ago, when you... kissed me. It wasn't like I used to kiss Ron. You know that. I just... I thought it was different for you, too. You told me it _felt _different, but was it, then? Not really, I guess. Not if you just... went back to Ginny. And told her everything, and she _forgave _you, and..."

She sighed. Tears welled in her eyes, her throat was so thick with emotion that she could barely breathe properly. When had her heart decided to fall for Harry? And why had it taken her brain so long to realize she was an idiot for doing so?

"You told her you were weak. That you couldn't... resist. Resist what? It's not like I was the one who came onto _you_. You're the one who moved forward. Hell, Harry, you _asked _me if you could kiss me!"

Still nothing. He was listening, alright. If he hadn't been, or if he'd been sleeping, she'd hear other noises. The creak had probably been him, sitting up. She stepped towards the right, trying to peek in through the window - it was dark out anyway, he wouldn't see her trying to look. Sure as ever, there he was, sitting on the end of the unmade bed. The covers were thrown about wildly, as was his hair - his glasses were on the side table. He was in a white undershirt and striped boxers, black socks threatening to slip down his skinny ankles. He was resting, elbows on knees, looking at the floor. She couldn't look at him anymore - she'd burst. She stepped back towards the door.

The only other sound she heard in the building was that of an acoustic guitar in the distance, plucking and strumming away, random melodies and chords. Bits of songs she thought she recognized - one she knew she knew.

"And if you asked me if you could, you knew what you were getting into. What you were getting us _both _into. "

_You can brave decisions_  
><em> Before you crumble up inside<em>  
><em> Spend your time asking everyone else's permission<em>  
><em> Then run away and hide<em>

"You look like a mess in there. If what you said to Ginny was true... oh, I don't even _know _what you said to Ginny, exactly. I didn't dare ask her, and you're sitting on the bed ignoring me."

A slight creak. He knew he'd been caught.

"And furthermore, Harry... you haven't really made up your mind, have you? You don't really know what - or who - you want, at all! That's why you sent me the letter - to see if I'd show up, after Ginny's call. To see if I would back down. I did. I won't. I'm here."

She'd realized it for the first time as she'd said it - how easy it would have been to give up, to back down, to ignore Harry's simple directions. _Leaky Cauldron. You know the room. _But she hadn't - perhaps even the possibility of giving him up like that, wasn't really a possibility. She'd had feelings for him, slowly and painfully developing over the last year. She'd wanted to hide them, so desperately, but when they'd talked three nights ago... something had shifted, in their conversation, and he'd gotten closer and closer to her. After nearly three hours of agonizing close proximity talking, venting, comforting, he flat out asked her. _Can I kiss you?_ How could she deny that?But she hadn't shied away afterwards, and she wasn't going to scurry off now - she knew what she was here for.

"What was that, anyway? Confessing to Ginny? I doubt it was _guilt_ - I know you well enough to know that if there was something little that you didn't think would matter, you'd laugh it off and pretend it never happened. So was this not little? Was this something you think matters? You know, besides the fact that you're my best friend in the entire world and you went and kissed me? What was this to you, then? You know it was more to me - that much has been obvious to you for a while, I think. We're you just checking for her reaction? Seeing if she'd throw a fit or pat you on the head and tell you to not do it again? What did she do? Slap your wrist? Leave you? Tell me, Harry!"

Nothing. So, he was running - from whatever had happened. If she'd left him, obviously he'd be a little broken up about it. It he was running from her after she might have forgiven him... there was something else very seriously bothering him. Either one left her with the knowledge that what had happened, mattered to him. Greatly.

"I see. It... Bill talked to me. Told me you'd talked about... us. I think Ginny threw a fit at the Burrow, no matter what she'd told you. Imagine, she gets back from Hogwarts expecting to be bloody _perfect _with you, and you've gone and snogged me the night before she returns. She probably blew up, mentioned my name. Bill said he wouldn't blame you for leaving her - that's what he thought happened. I explained, a little. He laughed. Said he'd seen it coming before we even had. I don't doubt that. Everyone else seemed to, of course, except us. And here we are. Me, standing outside of your hotel room door in the middle of the Leaky, and you hiding inside. I'd call you a coward, but you know that already."

Her sadness, her desperation - was turning into frustration. How could he _do _this to her? To Ginny?

_Or you can sit on chimneys_  
><em> Put some fire up your ass<em>  
><em> No need to know what you're doing or waiting for<em>  
><em> But if anyone should ask<em>  
><em> Tell them I've been licking coconut skins<em>  
><em> And we've been hanging out<em>  
><em> Tell them God just dropped by to forgive our sins<em>  
><em> And relieve us our doubt<em>  
><em> La la la la la la la...<em>

"I mean, obviously this is big. You're hiding out here - have been for a few days, from what I hear. So it's not just hiding from me - you're hiding from your decision. I don't understand on which end of the broomstick - because you regret what happened, or because you don't."

Another creak - this one bigger. He could have gotten up. He could be standing just on the other side of the door. If he was, he didn't open it. She sighed. This could take a while.

"You're here for a reason. I know you. You're going to emerge from this, having made a decision. But I can't wait forever, Harry. I can't wait another bloody _minute_. I've been waiting three days, without hearing a whisper from you. So just... buck up! Just do it! If you're going to turn me away and go back to Ginny and break my heart, seal the wound while it's fresh! If you're going to hurt me, do it while I'm ready... don't want for me to turn my back. But if you're not... I mean, I'd wait forever for that, if I wasn't afraid of going absolutely mental in the mean time. I just need to know. I came over as soon as I got your letter. I need to know."

"If you're going back to Ginny, you do so without me, for a while. I can't sit there and watch that, and you can't expect me to. If you don't... if you mean every unspoken confession you said to me in that kiss, that long, slow kiss, then you're going to have to _come out of there _eventually and answer some questions. People are going to talk. You're just going to have to _let it go._ Tell them that you're doing what you want to do, for once, not what the wizarding world and everyone else wants from you. I know it's going through your head, Harry, I've been your best friend for eight years. I can practically hear _your _head debating this as much as mine is. Just tell them the truth - we've been seeing each other, sort of. We didn't realize it until it was too late. But this is what you - we - want."

Nothing.

"And god forbid, Harry - if Merlin himself rises from the grave, or whatever religious deity drops from the heavens - if God himself came down to chat, nobody would blame us. Nobody can deny feelings like that, Harry. They can't. And if they try... they won't. I doubt they will. I can feel it. There will be a few issues - Ginny, for one. Possibly Ron, though I don't think he even cares what the weather's like, most days - but if you weren't sure about how you were feeling in the first place, Harry, you wouldn't have kissed me in the first place. Remember that."

She thought about leaving. Changed her mind. She just had a few more things to say.

_Oh you can hold her eggs_  
><em> But your basket has a hole<em>  
><em> You can lie between her legs and go looking for<em>  
><em> Tell her you're searching for her soul<em>  
><em> You can wait for ages<em>  
><em> Watch your compost turn to coal<em>  
><em> Time is contagious<em>  
><em> Everybody's getting old<em>

"A few more things, before I leave - and before I give you _your _choice. Just.. think about this. It's not difficult. Ginny's pretty furious with you, despite maybe acting fine with you when you told her. She tried sounding alright over the phone, but then her voice had that famous Weasley edge... anyway. What I'm saying is, even if you chose her - went back. It would _never _be the same. She wouldn't trust you. And you wouldn't ever be a hundred percent happy with her again - I can feel that much. It won't be the relationship you'd think you were going back to.

"All you'd go back to is surface feelings, and... and _sex_, I guess. You could pretend all you want that you're still in love with her, like you used to be. But if you were... well, we've been over that before. I have, at least. Quite a few times tonight. You can just... pretend. You can sit and wait and pretend that things are going to be alright for you again. Hell, you might end up married - with children, big happy family - and it _still _wouldn't be the same. What happened three days ago, Harry - no matter how much anyone else might like to say it could just be brushed off - it can't. It changes... _everything._"

She was nearing the end. Her voice was hoarse. She removed pen and sticky pad from her coat pocket, scribbled down the inn room number she'd been given at the front desk that afternoon, and sighed.

"There's a whole lot of time ahead of us, Harry. It isn't stopping and standing still and waiting for you to make your decision - I can't do that, either. If you go back to her, I'll leave. If you don't... we'll work on that if it happens. But I'm not going to sit out here and wait while time passes until you decide to walk right past me. I've rented a room here. I'll be here until morning. If you don't come by check out time... I'll know you've made your decision." She stuck the note to the door, and turned to leave - but one more thing had to come out, before she could do that. She couldn't rest all of this on this conversation, but she had to - might as well make it last.

"Six months ago you talked about getting older. About what would happen, years from now. I imagined myself growing older with you - that's when I knew that this... this stupid _crush_ had grown into so much more. We've gotten older in the last eight years, we'll get older in our next eighty years, as well. I hope you'll be there for mine."

The tears sprang free - she knew she was finished. It was a long, agonizing walk back to her room. Every step she took that she didn't hear his door swing open, that she didn't hear him calling out her name, caused her physical pain. Had she accidentally gotten her heart stapled to the bottom of her sandals? Because every step she took felt like someone squeezing that thing in her chest and knocking her lungs around.

He'd walked her home. He'd kissed her and walked her all the way across town, nearly six kilometers, and he'd given her an extra-long hug before apparating back to his flat. He hadn't wanted to just let her apparate away. He wanted to see her, if just for that last hour. That's what made her show up tonight. Not the letter. Not the idea of them being together. The fact that even after he'd made a decision that he knew would change things, he stayed with her as long as he could before she had to sleep.

She entered her room, hoping he'd make a similar walk tonight. She was close enough - less than eight rooms, just a floor up. It would take him three minutes to make the walk, including the steps - she would know. She'd just taken the same walk. She sat on the bed for thirty minutes and waited. Had she said too much? Or too little? Or had she just said the wrong things, at the wrong time? It was all true, anyway. They both knew it, even if he hadn't verbally admitted it yet.

After thirty minutes she brushed her teeth, turned on the telly, and waited some more. The current show was only irritating her further, so she shut it off.

An hour passed.

Then two.

Then three.

At two in the morning, she'd very nearly given up hope. It had been four hours since she'd left Harry in his room, since she'd spilled everything she'd been thinking. And after all of it, after their entire friendship, it probably wasn't enough. She cried, and cried, and cried some more. She cried standing, and sitting, and curled into a ball on the floor beside the uncomfortable sofa. She cried while she opened the mini-fridge and searched for something that might help her hurt less. She noticed water - she'd need it later - and then a mini bottle of firewhiskey. Perfect.

She hadn't even opened the bottle before she heard the knock. Two sharp raps on the door - overtly Harry, never wanting to bother anyone, really. She waited. Two more knocks.

"Hermione?"

Sure enough, through the peephole, she saw him - clad in nice looking muggle attire, as usual - new jeans and a soft-looking green t-shirt that brought out his eyes. He still wasn't wearing his glasses. She barely noticed.

"'Mione, you blocked the light through the peephole when you looked. I know you're there. And listening. If you're trying to teach me a lesson..."

She'd already turned the knob and flung the door open by the time he finished.

"...don't. Because I've learned. I- oh. I thought. I waited. I kicked myself for not opening the door to you in the first place. And I got dressed, and I woke myself up with some coffee - I talked to myself. For an extensive period of time. Probably not the best thing to admit, but regardless! I called Ginny, to... to call it off. She wasn't as easy with me as she may have made it seem. She was pissed off - naturally. But when I realized I didn't care, I realized just how much I did care about you. It's stupid to put it that way, but that's the truth, and I... I'm here. I showed up. Just like you."

"Where are your glasses?"

He blinked, as if just realizing that he couldn't see without them. "Oh. I was... sort of in a panic. I don't think I even bothered to grab them." He patted a pocket of his jeans. "Nope. Didn't."

"Oh."

"I asked you because I wasn't sure if I could handle it - and because I thought you'd had feelings, but I wasn't sure. I guess it started two weeks ago. Everything about Ginny came second best - by a long shot - to everything about you. And it just sort of clicked. And yes, I'm angry with myself for it - but, you know, it's bollocks anyway. It's all... bollocks."

"Very introspective, Mr. Potter, very deep."

"Hush."

She smiled. That was it, then. He was here. He glanced behind her at her room - nearly as much of a mess as his own, after just a few hours - and shook his head. "Firewhiskey?"

"I thought you weren't coming. I was just going to drink until I fell asleep, or something. Desperate times, Harry."

"I did. I'm... here. For the next eighty years, I think."

She hugged him and welcomed him into her room, cleaning and muttering to herself as she went.

Hours later as the sun rose and Harry breathed softly, cuddled in snugly behind her, he began to hum a familiar tune. It was the song she'd heard on the guitar, while outside her room. She recognized it now, a song she'd heard a few times, she couldn't remember the words or what it meant, just the simple harmony and melody playing dimly in her head. The actual song could wait - whatever it was, she could guarantee, one hundred percent, that it wouldn't make her half as happy as the slightly off-key humming of the man behind her.


	5. Closer

**AN: Another update, another songfic. Can't help it. This one is to the feel of Dido - Closer, a hidden track that I know I personally LOVE TOO MUCH. There's a little angst, a little strangeness, but ultimately, this is a very happy little one shot, and I think you'll all enjoy it. As usual, I cut out repetitive bits and etc... but I really got a good feeling about this one, listening to it this morning. Please remember to review, and cheers!**

* * *

><p>"Do you... have everything? Keys?"<p>

"Yeah." He shook them around from between his fingers for emphasis, and the resulting quick noise was enough to startle her. Hermione had taken Harry out for dinner for his birthday, a few days late. After spending the last few months buried in research and trials, she couldn't ignore a social life - or Harry - any longer. The problem, however, was not that Harry had a girlfriend to go home to, or that Hermione herself was due to be wed in three months. On their own, those two facts were of no trouble at all.

The problem, then, was that she and Harry had been... what? Seeing each other? Dating behind backs? Sleeping together? Sneaking around? For nearly eight months now. This was their first outing in public, alone together, and it marked the night that Hermione would finally try and tell Harry how she felt - scared, a little sad, but mostly hopeful - hopeful that they might be together, after all this. After paying off the check and hopping in a cab back to Hermione's flat, one she'd remained living in alone instead of moving in with Ron for obvious reasons, the pair sat awkwardly together for a moment before Hermione decided to breach the topic.

"Gin still doesn't know?"

"She thinks we're just friends. Everyone does, unfortunately." **  
><strong>

"I almost wish people were suspicious. It wouldn't be a total shock to anyone. Anyway, Harry... happy birthday."

"Yeah. Thanks, 'Mione. It's been... a tough year."

"How so?"

"Let's see, I'm dating Ginny after three years and she wants a ring, and I'm, you know, with you."

"Well."

The resulting awkward silence was enough to kill them both. To be perfectly honest, they'd never breached the topic of leaving their partners for each other. In fact, whenever Harry talked about her and Ron's pending wedding, he spoke as if it were still happening - something Hermione thought to be very unlikely. But would he leave Ginny? That was the question.

Back at Hermione's flat, Harry walked her inside, took off his coat, and sat for a moment beside her, his arm around her shoulders, fingertips brushing the tops of her arms. She lived for nights like this - empty, quiet time spent at her flat, the two of them talking for hours or not saying a word. She remembered their first night together - Ginny was on vacation, as was Ron - the entire Weasley family had gone to visit Charlie. Harry and Hermione had opted to stay behind due to work, or lack of time, or another reason. Instead what had happened, was Harry had come over on the first night to play cards, the second to drink, the third to sleep with her for the first time, and the seven nights after that to continue what he'd been doing the night before, drinking and sleeping with her, watching movies, calling in for delivery, not asking questions. She'd already been engaged to Ron. But neither mentioned that, the entire time.

Now, however, the Weasleys were not on vacation - in fact, Ginny was probably waiting up for Harry, watching him like a hawk, as always. Ron didn't know she'd gone out with Harry - hadn't really bothered to ask. Usually she liked that about Ron, it gave her a certain freedom, but it almost seemed as if he didn't worry about her at all. Harry, remembering that he had a girlfriend that was not the woman beside him, stood, smiling awkwardly and shaking his head.

_So leave your taxi waiting _  
><em> And turn and close my door <em>  
><em> And sit back down where you were sitting <em>  
><em> A little closer than before <em>

_ When you look that serious _  
><em> It just makes me want you more <em>  
><em> And I've been needing to tell you <em>

"I should get going. Gin's waiting."

"I suppose so."

"I'll call a cab, then..." He left the room to make a call, and came back shortly. "Two minutes tops. In the area already."

Those two minutes, however, were awkward and silent, whereas their dinner had been full of conversation and zest. They talked more than anyone else they knew, and enjoyed each others company not only physically, but emotionally and mentally, as well. Harry peered out her sitting room window and saw lights.

"That'll be me." He grabbed his keys again, sauntered over to the door, and beckoned to Hermione. She looked away pointedly, playing with the hem of her short, pale gold dress. She hadn't even been able to bring it up. She'd probably never, out of fear of rejection, or... but this was _Harry_. Her best friend. And now the man she loved. He turned the handle and opened the door, but her voice stopped him still in his tracks.

"Stay."

He did.

"We need to talk, Harry. Come... come over here. Please."

He did, slowly, and after shutting the door, sat down beside her, close enough that she could smell him, his light spray of cologne, his shampoo, everything.

He sat beside her, her hands clasped together in her lap, legs locked together tightly, back straight as a rod. This was uncomfortable for the both of them, but also unavoidable. They'd both seen this conversation coming before. Neither of them had just really expected it to actually happen tonight. At the same time, neither of them knew what would actually come of it.

"We can't keep seeing each other if we're in other relationships, Harry."

"Then what do you suppose we do?"

"Well, we have two choices, I suppose. I stay with Ron, and marry him. You stay with Ginny - maybe give her the ring she so desperately wants. Or... or we leave them."

"Just... _leave them?_"

"Yes. And... take a chance at what we have."

"I've been dating Gin for nearly two years, Hermione..."

"And I've been _engaged _to Ronald for most of that two years, Harry. My situation is a little tougher than yours, I think."

"Yeah, you win on that. But... it's a long relationship to just... toss aside."

"It's not like you'd be doing it for no reason, though. Right?"

"Yeah." His lips were set into a tight, straight line, his brows furrowed. Even at his most serious, his most frustrated, she felt the almost irresistible urge to jump in his lap and lay there for hours.

"I've been meaning to bring this up for a while now, Harry. A few months, really. You're... I love Ron. I do. Enough that at one point, I did think that I would marry him, that he was the only man for me. And I still have feelings for him, of course. He's Ron, but... that implies both negative and many positives, as well. But... then you came along, and we started this thing that we have here, and... it's making me doubt things, but be really, ultimately certain about a few more."

"What sorts of things?"

_ The closer you get, the better I feel _  
><em> The closer you are, the more I see <em>  
><em> Why everyone says that I look happier <em>  
><em> When you're around <em>  
><em> The closer you get, the better I feel <em>

"When you're around, the rest of the world isn't so horrible. Work isn't as tedious, my nights aren't nearly as boring, there's an extra spring in my step. On these off nights that we get to see each other, I feel like a weight's been lifted. People notice. 'Cheerful today, Granger?' 'Someone's in a lovely mood.' The lot of it. And it's always when you're here. You sitting here, so close to me on my sofa in my sitting room. It's like... girls have dreams and fantasies about big romantic gestures from men, and all I want is to sit here with you and just... breathe. Just exist."

"And Hermione... you know I feel the same. I go into the office in the mornings, and if I've seen you the night before, I don't even need coffee. I'm straight on my work, chatting it up with anyone around, smiling like a mad man, reliving the events of the night before... and you're the one that causes it. Other nights? I can barely keep my head up in the morning! It's ridiculous. I'm a different man when I'm with you."

"Then where does that leave us? Knowing we're happier with each other, but dedicated to others, too?"

"Like you said, we have two choices."

"Yes. And you're going to have to make it."

_ And yes I know you're nervous _  
><em> Never seen you so unsure <em>  
><em> You haven't touched your food tonight <em>  
><em> And you're drinking more and more <em>

"It's just scary, 'Mione."

"I know. It's... at the same time that we feel more alive together, we're also more frightened together."

"I can barely think about it."

"I noticed. You pushed your dinner around on your plate all night and lived off martinis and scotch."

"I needed to clear my head."

"Alcohol does the opposite, Harry."

"Yeah, well. You've got to be scared, too."

"I'm terrified! Leaving Ron is going to be the single scariest thing I've ever done in my life. But... it's worth it. Right?" She was almost afraid of his response. For her, of course it was worth it. What she felt for Harry was infinitely more powerful than what she felt for Ron, despite an engagement. She'd been settling. And now she had a chance to break out and be with the man she loved most... if he'd do the same for her, too.

"Right."

The word was like music to her. It was all she'd ever wanted to hear. _Right._

"Good. So then... right."

"I'll... I'll talk to Ginny this week. Prepare her for it a little. You're going to break off your engagement with Ron."

"Do we tell them why? It could... get messy."

"That's what I was just thinking about. I mean, I'd love to hide it from them, but... if we lie, it'll only get worse. Plus, breaking up with them at the same time? For seemingly no reason? Right. Not suspicious at all."

"That's true."

_ And there's no need to hurry _  
><em> Take your time I'll still be here <em>  
><em> And I've been meaning to tell you <em>

_ The closer you get, the better I feel _  
><em> The closer you are, the more I see <em>  
><em> Why everyone says that I look happier <em>  
><em> When you're around<em>  
><em> better I feel <em>  
><em> The closer you get, better you see<em>  
><em> The closer you are, more I see<em>  
><em> Why everyone says that I look happier<em>  
><em> When you're around <em>  
><em> The closer you get, better I feel <em>  
><em> Better I feel <em>

"Take your time, Hermione. I mean... Ginny's a girlfriend. There's a reason I never proposed, and I think... I think part of her knows I never would have. But that's an... you were going to be married, Hermione. I mean, shit. That's big."

"I know."

"I'll be here waiting, whenever you're ready. As long as you need. I just... I mean, I've been meaning to tell you all this too, for so long. About how I never proposed to Ginny because I really only ever saw myself with you. How I have ditched her on dates we were supposed to have, just to see you. It's just... you shouldn't be in a relationship with someone you don't feel like that about. I'm willing to drop anything and anyone for you, any time, and... yeah."

She was surprised enough at having this conversation with him - but the results? Had made all the difference.

_ We've been circling for time baby _  
><em> We're coming down to land tonight <em>  
><em> The wait is over and now it's easy <em>  
><em> Everything is fine<br>_

"It's like... we've just been waiting all this time. I think I've known, Harry, for a while... that it would come to this"

"Yeah, myself as well. I just... it's always kind of been you. You know? Even if we didn't recognize it for a long, long time. Always."

"Of course. But... it's time to take care of it. Before we get ourselves into even more of a mess. I've got you, you've got me... Harry, this is really all I need, as far as I'm concerned."

"I feel the same." He stood again, but his attitude towards leaving was different. "I wish I could stay, but I'm going to go... I'm going to talk to Ginny tomorrow. And take your time talking to Ron, but not too much... he'd find out from Gin soon enough."

"Right. I'll talk to him tomorrow, too." She stood, and even in heels she was still shorter than him by at least four inches. He leaned into her, resting his forehead on hers, eyes closed, smiling.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you. And we can make this work."

"I love you too." Tears were coming to her now, you could hear it in her voice. He rubbed his hand over her back, held her close.

"It's okay, 'Mione... everything is fine."


End file.
